Go State!

Football season officially begins tonight in our house.  Technically, it starts for everyone tonight, but this blog isn't about everyone, it's about me.  Focus, please.  Arizona State plays NAU tonight.  As you may or may not know, Husband and I are both ASU graduates.  The Sun Devils are my second favorite college team, but I have to admit, I have to rely on Husband to keep me posted on the goings on with the team.  For example, they have a new QB starting this year since that yellow belly Brock Osweiler abandoned the team.  For the record, Husband and I don't agree on Brock.  He harbors no ill will, I think he's a traitor and I will never consider him a member of Sun Devil Nation.  I tend to have more aggressive feelings about sports than Husband.  Anyway, there was a three-horse race for the starting job.  I was told one of the guys reminded everyone of Jake "The Snake" Plummer.  To which my obvious response was, "So he's smoking hot?" I guess that's not what they meant. They were referring to him being able to move/throw/escape a collapsing pocket.   Good news: the kid who is like Jake won the job.  His name is Taylor Kelly.  I guess I'll find out tonight if he is smoking hot.  God, I hope so.  I have a soft spot for pretty QBs.  Also, for anyone wondering at home, Jake Plummer is by far my all-time favorite Sun Devil.  Then comes James Harden.

Enough of this ASU talk, let's move on to the Cowboys.  I've typically written a blog every year before the season starts, sending up a multi-part prayer/plea to God/Jesus/Santa/the Universe to grant me my wishes.  This was last year's blog, if you are interested. All but one of the things I asked for came true. Most importantly, I finally got what I wanted...a BCS Bowl and win.  Obviously, there was one hiccup in the season, but like I've stated before, I refuse to acknowledge that the Iowa State game ever occurred.   I also got to witness, with my own eyes in person, a beautiful Bedlam beatdown.  I rushed the field.  I was 32 and rushed the field...and that makes me just a little more awesome than I was before.


So here's my wish list, by the Power of Greyskull, let them all come true:

1. I'd really like the team intro to be awesome.  A really good intro should make you want to punch someone and high five them at the same time.  Your heart should race, you should get excited all over again watching that big hit from last season, you should scream like a Bieber fan when they show a highlight of your player flattening the 2011 Heisman Trophy winner.  The music should be aggressive.  Everyone in Boone Pickens Stadium should be ready to knock someone out when the intro ends.  Last year, our intro didn't even have any words.  And it showed guys working out.  Ummm, watching someone do a deadlift doesn't really get me going.  Sit ups don't get me pumped.  I want big hits.  I want sideline shots of RGIII, Landry Jones and Andrew Luck looking like broken men.  Devastation...that's all I'm asking for.  Did I mention I tend to be a very aggressive fan?
2. Beat Texas.  I want this win...badly.  If you peruse the message boards, the Longhorn fans are cocky.  They are confident they are back, and their defense is going to be dominant.  Well, I remember putting 420 offensive yards on that dominant defense last year.  And ESPN/CBS/ABC  can show Manny Diaz all they want, but his good looks don't stop touchdowns.  I want to beat Texas in Stillwater.  I want someone to stomp on Mack Brown's face.  Okay, not literally, I actually like Mike Brown.  I'm speaking metaphorically.  Beat.  Down.  Leave Kirk Herbstreit speechless.  And for the record, I just don't see any way I'll be able to attend this year's OSU v Texas game.  And let me express how sad that makes me... I haven't seen OSU beat Texas in person since 1997.  Fifteen years.  I may never forgive myself for not waiting to have this baby until after this game.  Come on' Kath, priorities!
3. No big drop off.  I know we lost a lot of key components last year.  I know this.  But like those obnoxious people in the SEC say, we don't rebuild, we reload.  Then they slam a mint julep and show you their Bear Bryant tattoo.  Anywho, I really believe the Cowboys should be at that level.  We shouldn't just fall apart because we lost two first round picks and three offensive lineman and some key guys on defense.  There should be someone great, ready to step in and fill those shoes.  Someone who makes us all say, "Brandon who?"  Okay, that's not going to happen.  Weeden is a hero.  Hell, every time I type "we" into my phone, it automatically tries to write Weeden.  That probably speaks more to my level of obnoxiousness than his greatness, but that's not the point.  I think a 10-2 season is completely doable, and 9-3 is acceptable.  It wouldn't make me happy, but I would accept it.  But anything other than that, I've got a problem.  We can't fall back into mediocrity.  I've tasted greatness, and I won't go back...you can't make me.

And that's it.  I don't feel like I'm asking too much.

Go Pokes!

Cool sweater, brah

I was going to write a blog about all the stuff the Today Show taught me this week.  But as I reflected, it didn't really teach me much.  However, before I launch into my tirade about a story I saw yesterday, I'd like to quickly touch on the fact that Prince Harry seems like a lot of fun.  I mean, A LOT of fun.  Good for him and his Vegas shenanigans.  You won me over, sire.

Okay, on to the ridiculous story I watched yesterday...  A woman was featured whose claim to fame was the fact that she had not purchased anything new in five years.  Five years.  She sounds like a real blast, huh?  Apparently, this all started by her challenging herself to go one month and not buy something new.  Hey lady, if these are the crazy goals you are setting for yourself, you might be the most boring person on the planet.  Try chugging an entire jug of milk, engaging in a wrestling match with an alligator, or not watching Sportscenter for 17 days (I did that during the Olympics...talk about a challenge).  But not buying stuff?  That's just un-American.  I, on the other hand, am an amazing American.  Freakin' Uncle Sam style up in here.

My scowl grew deeper and deeper as I watched her story develop.  Don't think for a second she wasn't high and mighty about her non-consumerism.  Now don't get me wrong, I'm all about a bargain. And if you are good at it, thrift store shopping can  be quite rewarding.  I have a friend whose mother is the best thrift store shopper on the planet.  Seriously, this woman can find anything worth value and walk out paying $.50.  She should teach a class, it's impressive.  But this stupid woman on the Today Show...different story.

The final straw for me was when she was showing off all the great "deals" she had gotten from the thrift store and held up an oversized lime green  ribbed sweater and said, "This sells for $150 in the stores, I got it for $4." Liar! Ummm, it cost $150 in 1999.  You didn't get a bargain, you were probably overcharged.  Just because it cost that much at one time in history doesn't mean that is the actual value.  Need an example?  Z. Cavaricci jeans.  At one time, very expensive.  I owned a pair of forest green Z Cavs.  They were awesome.  I was in 7th grade.  I wore them with Cole Haan boots.  I was awesome.  However, I think it's safe to say Z. Cavaricci's have lost their value.  As has the ribbed lime green sweater.

And another thing, just because it was once in fashion, doesn't mean it still is.  Nobody else is buying lime green anything anymore.  That color is reserved for the 90s and post-it notes.  You know what else used to be in fashion?  Tricorne hats.  If you wore one today, people are probably going to think you are crazy.  Oh, who am I kidding?  18th Century hats are rad.  If I had one, I'd wear it while carrying a musket and yelling, "Hark!  Hark!" 

So the moral of my super judgy blog is this: your discount sweater doesn't make you a smarter consumer than the rest of us.  It makes you cheap...and dressed in a lime green sweater.  And that offends me.

Possums and bad decisions...Part II

Part II....

Onto a completely unrelated topic...bad decisions. Bad decisions have been on my mind a lot lately.  It started with reading this blog.  Totally hilarious.   The girl talks about some bad decisions she made including, "In college, I drunkenly convinced my frazzled roommate that she needed to let me sit up so I could do something really important and then proceeded to vomit into one of my rain boots."  That made me think, I could write a lot of blogs or even a book about all the bad decisions I've made.  It would be pretty hilarious stuff.  But then I thought about the shame it would bring upon my family.  Not so much my brother, he's pretty aware of the dumb crap I've done, but my mom would be pretty upset.  Then I thought about how important it is for me to develop a pen name.


Then I was driving today and listening to the radio and they were talking about Chris Ochocinco Johnson.  He's the second person in as many days that I've felt bad for regarding their bad decisions.  I always feel bad for people who make bad decisions.  I want to give them a do-over.  I'd love to say it's because I'm such a loving kind soul who believes in the best in everyone, but I think it has more to do with my penchant for my own bad decisions.  This especially comes into play when I can picture myself in the same situation.  For the record, that was not the case with Ochocinco.  I can't imagine myself as an NFL wide receiver head butting my new wife.  But I did like his show on VH1and thought he seemed like a pretty likable guy.  I would also like to say, that I don't condone violence when angry or in general.  The only people who are allowed to headbutt are The Bushwackers.  Because they are awesome.


Where was I?  Oh right, bad decisions.  I used to think everyone made them.  It was kind of a right of passage.  It's what I like to call your 20s.  But I'm starting to realize, that's not true.  Apparently, there are tons of people out there who are responsible and level-headed and walk the straight and narrow.  These people don't really take risks, are even-keeled, and for the most part don't make bad decisions.  These people are what I like to call fun-haters.  And they rarely have any good stories to tell.


So that's my new angle.  Every time I make a bad decision, I'm going to think of it as "material."  Material for a book I should write, or material for if I ever become funny enough to be a stand up comedian...so it looks like it will be material for a book.  I hear once you have a baby you have nothing but free time on your hands, so looks like now is the perfect time to start.  Great thinking, Kath!

And finally, as a show of my maturity, and maybe a sign that I've become a better decision maker, I found this picture when I Google image searched "bad decisions."  I thought it was really, really funny.  I was going to use it as the lead picture for this blog, but then thought, "No, Kathy.  You are getting ready to be a parent.  All your mommy friends on facebook will be upset/worried/concerned if you put that picture up."  So, I hid it down here at the bottom for those of you who have a sense of humor.  You're welcome.


I promise not to put my baby in a pot...at least not on the stove.

Possums and bad decisions...Part I

This was supposed to be one blog.  Then I started writing and it just kept going and going, so I split it up.  I haven't blogged in two months, consider this my makeup work.  If you are going to read one over the other, read this one....and then read the other.  What else do you have to do?  And if I weren't so deathly afraid of possums, this blog would have a picture of a possum at the top.  But I just can't do that, and I resent that you think  I should...

We have a possum.  He's not a pet.  He's not wanted, but he is there.  Lingering.  In our backyard and haunting my dreams.  A couple of nights ago, Husband let the dog out to take care of business.  The process was taking a little longer than normal, so I stuck my head out of the bedroom, only to be greeted by Husband with saucer-sized eyes and the warning, "Do NOT go out there!"  I was instantly intrigued.  "Why?  What's going on?" I asked.  "There is a possum out there," he shouted as he searched for a flashlight.  "How big is it?" I asked, starting to panic.  He held his hands about a foot apart.  I shivered.  "You can't leave the dog out there.  They are mean.  They attack.  THEY ARE MEAN!  THEY ATTACK!" I paced in the kitchen while Husband returned to the scene.  They quickly came back inside, and the dog was super excited.  Sweet little Bojangles, doesn't even know he came face to face with the spawn of Satan.

I instantly needed a detailed account of what happened.  I had to know what we were dealing with.  According to the report I received, the possum was up against the fence, and when the dog spotted him, he froze and opened his mouth.  (God, just typing that has upset me more than I can explain).  I told Husband that he probably could have left that detail out.  He got the dog inside, returned outside only to see the varmint climb the fence and escape to the neighbors yard.  They can climb fences.  How great for them.  Husband asked,"How do you get rid of possums?"  Me: "You shoot them...or you hack them to death with an axe."  He frowned at me and said, "I'm not doing either of those things."  Apparently, I married a pacifist.  How great for me.

So now, I can't enjoy my backyard at night.  The possum has ruined that for me.  He is a terrorist.  He has taken away my backyard freedom.  I explained to Husband, that he has to accompany the dog on all nighttime potty times, due to the danger in the dark.  "I can't do it myself, because I just can't take the risk of the stress a possum would put on me at the moment.  I'm just too fragile right now."  On a side note, there is a very good chance, our daughter might be a bit of a drama queen.